The Klaine Show
by Inside-Eyes
Summary: A 'how it should have ended' fan version of glee from s3 onwards. Diverges massively from canon in later chapters.
1. Those Summer nights

_**A/N - this has been a long time coming.**_

 _ **To honour the late Glee (sob!) I've wanted for a while to write a 'how it should have ended' fic with a focus on my favourite characters - take a wild guess lol**_

 _ **I'm going to follow the story all the way through season 3 and then diverge from canon a bit in season 4.**_

 _ **Story contains a lot of original characters and is very Blaine-centric. Don't say I didn't warn you :D**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

..

 **MONDAY 29TH AUGUST 2011 - 8PM**

The worst part was that the heat wasn't coming from anywhere in particular. On a sunny day you could hide in the shade but this day wasn't sunny, there was no blaze, the sky was overcast and grey it was just uncomfortably hot. And there was nowhere to hide.

Blaine rubbed the material of his shirt against his armpits, cringing inwardly at the sticky dampness. He seriously considered taking his shirt off for a second but the thought of a maternal bollocking for getting sunburned made him think better of it. _Jesus I feel like I'm basting in my own sweat. Roll on, September…_

Still, no matter how nice some AC would be right about now, Blaine would still have preferred to be out and boiling alive than stuck in the house with his family.

His phone vibrated suddenly against his butt cheek and he smiled involuntarily. Actually the former statement wasn't altogether true, he'd love to be inside with the part of his family that wasn't his mother, his father or his brother.

There was a picture attached to the recently received text message. It was Blaine, un-gelled with his arm around a pale, skinny boy with black hair and high cheekbones. He was staring off at a space a ways above the camera with his mouth frozen in a wide open smile. Blaine scanned the text;

 **From Willie; 1 attachment**

 **Look at this 1, if they made mr. Cauliflowers instead of mr. potato heads u would be 1 of those**

Blaine laughed aloud in spite of himself and then looked up self-conscious but there was no one around, so his eyes fell back to the screen in his hand.

Willie was Blaine's newest love affair. But it didn't count as cheating on Kurt because he was his cousin, or second cousin, or first cousin once removed _or something._

He thumbed his reply.

 **From Blaine: re Willie;**

 **Rude! I have a very respectable level of natural fluff :P**

The response was almost immediate.

 **From Willie; re Blaine;**

 **U hav a sentient hair beast on ur skull, it moves of its own accord. But I don't mind, it's soft and stimmy :D**

Blaine sent a tiny yellow face blowing a kiss in response to this and the text conversation devolved into a gratuitous exchange of emojis. His cheeks hurt from grinning. In between wracking his brains for story excuses to use little caricatures of farm animals and mini flags Blaine was scrolling through his photo album still trying to decide what he wanted most to print this time, his meagre allowance not allowing him a lot of choice in this regard.

He had illustrated to his parents the cost of printing photos properly, professionally in an effort to garner sympathy and maybe, possibly a raise? It…hadn't really been successful.

 _"If you think I'm forking out even more of my hard-earned money to support you in a hobby, young man, you are very much mistaken. You need to learn the value of the dollar, if you find the very reasonable budget that you have been given can't support a certain pastime then it's probably time for a re-evaluation."_

 _Urgh, a simple yes or no would have sufficed. What am I supposed to do? Just get a new hobby? It's not a damn phone contract, I can't just get a new one when the old one gets too expensive or whatever…I bet they think I should go back to collecting stamps or playing operation in my spare time…something that doesn't cost any amount of money and doesn't leave bits of craft paper lying around…_

But now he was getting annoyed, in spite of himself. Remembering conversations with his Dad tended to have that affect on Blaine. Attempting to distract himself he paused on a photo again of him and Willie with their arms around each other, this time in what he remembered to be a private helicopter. He smiled at the sudden idea that he could probably just get Willie to pay for all of the things from now on _it's not as though he'll miss the money I guess._

Willie was Blaine's mother's cousin's son if you wanted to get technical about it, a link to a tragic and fascinating family history that Blaine had previously known very little about. If he looked very closely even just at pictures on his phone he could find his mom in the heart shaped curve of the chin, the full lips and the deep blue eyes of his new best friend. Looking at the two of them together even Blaine would have guessed that they'd known each other their whole lives, the twin smiles on their faces, the comfortable closeness; in practically every picture his fingers brushed they were together, laughing, touching, close together.

And Blaine had never been particularly outwardly affectionate; he could stress about the roots of that for hours. At home, mom was the affectionate one, who touched hands and kissed cheeks and hugged without warning. The men of the family, not so much...Dad wasn't cold by any means but he tended to think of an approving smile and a pat on the shoulder as the height of loving gestures. Between the benign awkwardness and undeniable emotional distance nobody really wanted to put hands on each other. This summer had been a real contrast.

There were four weeks in total captured in low resolution on Blaine's modest smart-phone, beginning in late July and finishing a week ago, he'd had to delete most of his music to make room for it all. Among the scenes of smiling faces smushed close to his own, hundred dollar restaurant meals he didn't have to feel guilty about and lazy mornings spent learning to play poker and eating fruits with names he couldn't pronounce were gorgeous landscapes of New York City, the Hamptons villages, the ocean…he could make a scrapbook out of all these shots, _I should make a scrapbook out of all these shots._

Another text appeared at the top of the screen;

 **From Billy;**

 **U managed to leave ur charger here sweety u gonna need it?**

Technically Billy wasn't a relative, not even by marriage. But he was Willie's dad, and he was brilliant, so that made him as good as.

 **From Blaine; re Billy**

 **I got more than 1 charger Bee ;)**

This was cool. Blaine had never called an adult by their first name before, let alone a nickname, even as a tiny tot he addressed his day-care workers as Missus Sara and Miss Charlene. It felt too disrespectful to do otherwise. But Billy had insisted.

So after an awkward period of calling him Mister Millard, then Mister Emm – but always 'Sir' when his parents were in earshot – he eventually threw caution to the wind and made sure the first time he was overheard calling him by name the man himself was there with his disarming smile to reassure everyone concerned that it was not a huge deal.

 _"Devon, my good man, if MY son can call me by name I'm pretty sure it's socially acceptable for yours to do it too."_

Although he was grateful for the support and if he was being honest, a little bit thrilled to have someone challenge his Dad right in front of him Blaine had cringed inwardly at the comment. Devon Anderson had never taken kindly to remarks about his parenting, however indirect.

Billy's reply came on the tail end of another emoji update from Willie.

 **From Billy; re Blaine**

 **Ah yes Millienial preparedness. I'll keep it safe in any case. U can collect it when u come back 4 Christmas**

 **From Blaine; re Billy**

 **I'm coming back 4 Christmas?**

 **From Billy; re Blaine**

 **U bet ur partially American ass ur coming back 4 Christmas**

He laughed out loud again, and again checked to see if anyone had noticed. A middle aged lady walking her dog frowned slightly as she passed him. He gave her an awkward smile then hurriedly lowered his eyes back to his phone. There was no one else.

He flipped back to his photo album, and one more time let his fingers trail adoringly over pixilated grins and the same glittering skyline from twelve different angles. Billy's skin was darker than Willie's, his smile wider and eyes a lighter shade of blue. He wore a crucifix on a beaded chain in every picture but the ones where he had just woken up, or the few Blaine had of him in a swimsuit.

There was one photo that showed Blaine, Willie and Billy all huddled together, three different skin tones all the same weird ghostly patchwork blue in the pool lights. They'd spent hours in there together, which took a lot of begging on Blaine's part, only getting out when they looked down and found their fingers had turned into cocktail sausages.

Yes, it had been a seriously good summer. There hadn't been many years Blaine could honestly have said that either. Between not being forced into a terrible part time job to fill the time, Kurt existing and meeting these wonderful people that now inhabited his contacts list _I might actually go back to school moderately relaxed this year._

But now it was 8:15 the streetlights were on and if he wanted to buy lunch for tomorrow he'd have to get moving. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and wrapped his arms around himself as he got to his feet and stepped out from under the useless canopy of leaves. He started up the road happy to feel the trace of an evening breeze on his face at long last.

He didn't encounter anyone else on his slow, sweaty trek to the nearby seven-eleven this part of town always being pretty low on pedestrians late in the evening. So he was surprised to find the convenience store heaving with customers. He thought about leaving it and then about the back-to-school lunch his mother had packed him without fail every year of his life since he was four. With the thought of cream cheese sandwiches, carrot sticks, yoghurt and Planters' NUT-rition filling up his mind he felt his hoodie pocket for the folded money and then followed his taste-buds around the crowded aisles.

He'd been stood in line for five minutes when his phone vibrated again. He saw that it was 8:30 before he read the text and knew already who it would be _right on time._

 **From Dad;**

 **Keep an eye on the time Blaine. You have school tomorrow.**

 _Sigh_

The fact that his father texted in full sentences was an endless source of annoyance to Blaine. Glancing up and seeing the queue was still of impressive length, he flicked the screen to unlock it and pressed the messages tab. He had made a habit of typing out the response he wanted to give and deleting it before making his actual reply, it was a way of purging the sarcasm and frustration without suffering any consequences.

So his response went

 **Wow really! I had nooooo idea! I was gonna stay out until midnight w/ my friends doing cocaine off the back of a shared male prostitute until I received ur text! Thank u soooo much 4 saving me from a miserable morning father dearest I am eternally gr8ful!**

Backspace, backspace, backspace and then

 **From Blaine; re Dad**

 **Okay Sir, I won't be late.**

He tucked the phone back into his pocket and shifted his basket to his other hand. There seemed to be only one cash desk open tonight and the line had not moved for several minutes. Whoever was being served either had a lot of shit to buy or was busy giving the cashier a lot of shit.

He figured he had about 10-15 minutes before he'd need to leave so he relaxed and let his mind wander.

 _Is there any point in bringing my phone tomorrow? It got a chip last time in that little collection box...but if I don't bring it I can't use it on breaks, I don't know. It's not a full day...not even a proper school day, maybe I won't bother... Didn't Finn work here for a little bit? Maybe that's him at the desk...I didn't see him when I came in though but it is packed in here. I hate working a place like this in the summer people are always hot and perpetually annoyed and they take it out on the cash desk. Actually that's just working places like this in general, people act like cashiers are interchangeable like robots or something...just portals of customer service with no human emotions that don't die inside every time someone yells at them about the price of eggs or something, I've never felt less like a whole person than when I was working at Costco, it's -_

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Kid? You with us?"

Blaine flushed red in spite of himself, thanked the stranger hurriedly and all but threw his purchases at the bored looking cashier. Who was short and female and definitely not Finn Hudson. He checked his phone once again as he took his bag 8:40, it was just about cool enough for him to jog home.

He stopped just at the top of his road and took a moment to collect himself. He couldn't go in there all sweaty and out of breath. There would be suspicion, and interrogation, and he would look shifty and guilty even though he'd done nothing wrong because that's just what his body did after sixteen years of being in and out of trouble, and it just wouldn't end well.

Checking his reflection in his dark phone screen Blaine walked past a row of white panel houses to his own, plodded around to the back porch and slid inside. The back door led into the living room where his parents were sitting together on the couch, his Dad lying back, hands behind his head watching the TV and his mom knitting with her feet up on the footrest. She looked up when she heard him enter and smiled.

"How was your walk honey?"

"Good. It's still...pretty hot out."

"You hitting the sack now?"

 _It's not even 9?_

"Um...I was going to just, go online for a bit..."

"Well I want you in bed reasonably early, son. And I'm sure your mother will agree with me."

Mom nodded, Blaine suppressed an eye roll

"Okay Dad."

"I mean it Blaine, you know what you're like in the mornings."

"I know Dad." Now he was getting annoyed

"In bed by ten thirty. No excuses."

"Okay." Blaine made a conscious effort to appear cooperative rather than put out. Then Mom smiled at him again and he took that as permission to leave. He escaped to his bedroom, fell gratefully into the swivel chair and booted up the computer.

Facebook was his first port of call. He checked his phone while it was loading. Billy was going to bed, Willie had run out of emojis.

 **From Blaine; re Willie**

 **I'm going online 4 a bit r u on FB?**

 **From Willie; re Blaine**

 **Actually I'd better be getting on, got a lot to do before 2moro.**

 **From Blaine; re Willie**

 **Ok sum other time then**

 **From Willie; re Blaine**

 **Sure xx**

The screen finally synced up and Blaine was immediately distracted by the first thing that came up in his feed. It was a link to download an MP3 file, posted by Kurt and labelled "Pip, Pip, Hooray!"

He didn't need to click on the file itself, having already listened to Kurt Hummel's own debut musical several times in its entirety with and without director commentary, he had at least ten mp3 files already saved of the musical in progress on his harddrive along with scraps of sheet music and voicemails of nervous humming and piano ditties. He'd joked to Kurt a few weeks ago that if he kept a diary they could easily shoot a 'making of' documentary.

Blaine scrolled down instead to read what everyone else thought.

 **Finn-Hudson – I guess it's pritty gd? I only know str8 music**

 **Kurt-Elizabeth-Hummel – Srsly?**

 **Mizz-Mercedes-Jones – It's fabulous Kurt 3**

 **Kurt-Elizabeth-Hummel – How sweet :***

 **Artie-Abrams-Supreme – Tight brotha**

 **Kurt-Elizabeth-Hummel – Ty :* (I think)**

 **Blaine-Warbler – Artie, can i ask ab the new profile name? You sound like limited edition mcdonalds burger**

 **Brittany-S-Pearse** – **I thought it meant he was one of the Supremes**

 **Artie-Abrams-Supreme - 1. highest in rank or authority. "a unified force with a supreme commander""the supreme commander of NATO forces" most important or powerful. "on the race track he reigned supreme"**

 **Artie-Abrams-Supreme - 2. very great or the greatest. "he was nerving himself for a supreme effort"**

 **Blaine-Warbler – Ok...? That really doesn't clarify anything for me**

 **Artie-Abrams-Supreme – I'm visualizing a better self image know what I'm sayin our minds believe what we tell em. If I tell myself i;m the supreme I will BE the supreme**

 **Santana-Snixxx-Lopez – lol did ur therapist tell u that was a good idea?**

 **Kurt-Elizabeth-Hummel – Not funny Santana**

 **Artie-Abrams-Supreme – Look y'all if we're gonna talk embarrassing usernames wb Puck's?**

 **Blaine-Warbler – I actually never said it was embarrassing**

 **Puckasaurus – Don't be a h8r bro**

 **Finn-Hudson – U been calling urself Puckasaurus since we were kids dude**

 **Puckasaurus – Actually lets not go ther :/**

 **Kurt-Elizabeth-Hummel – Curiosity piqued**

 **Santana-Snixxx-Lopez – What are you hiding from us Puckerman?**

Blaine leaned his forearms on the desk and let himself be sucked into the artificial light of the laptop screen. Time ticked by. The conversation moved to a group chat. Kurt and Blaine acted couple-y, Rachel attempted to shunt Finn into doing the same with poor results. The new directions enthused about a 'welcome back' surprise Mr Schuester had emailed about and Blaine started to wonder if he should sign off until Santana made a lewd comment about him and Kurt and he found himself involved again.

Blaine liked that the Mckinley guys made an effort to include him, but there was only so much they could do. He was pretty sure he was always going to be an outsider. _Even if I do transfer, what happens when Kurt graduates? They're always going to be his friends more than they are mine._

 **Mizz-Mercedes-Jones – Well my Dad is yelling at me now. Better get to bed I suppose night babies :-***

 _Argh shit!_ Blaine looked panicked at the corner of the screen and saw it was ten twenty eight.

 **ssame sory!** He typed hastily, punched the power button on the computer and reaching for the light switch. In the dark he fumbled off his shirt and took the bed at a flying leap, wrestling the thin summer duvet over himself and trying to look convincingly settled.

Predictably he heard footsteps on the landing only seconds later. The door cracked open;

"You asleep, Blaine?"

"Not yet, Dad."

"Ok, didn't mean to disturb you. Sleep well."

The door clicked shut. Blaine wriggled his legs out from under the covers and lay back staring at the ceiling. The room was quite peaceful. The curtains not closed all the way letting a strip of broken moonlight scatter over the bedsheets. It was cooler now. Blaine smiled and rolled onto his side, he was still in a pair of jeans. He was already dreading the early start tomorrow morning but besides that he was kind of looking forward to Warbler rehearsal. After the newness and freedom of the holiday to New York, Westerville and his family had felt horribly stifling, it would be nice to have some room to breathe again. To see his friends.

 _Gonna be a good year. Yeah._

With that he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

..

 _ **Leave a review?**_

 _ **More to come - the spirit is willing...**_


	2. The Purple Piano Project pt 1

TUESDAY 30TH AUGUST 2011 – 6AM

As was usual on a school day Pamela Rose Anderson's voice sounded a good 15 minutes before Blaine's alarm. _Ugh, what? I'm not even nearly late yet why are you shouting?_

His body – thoroughly unused to a 6:00 AM start after two months of a much gentler routine – felt like it was weighted, raising his head off the pillow was a ridiculous effort. He shouted something down the stairs to prove he was conscious and paying attention and then he sank back into the mattress.

He thought he'd made the right decision. About staying at Dalton, he really did, but he couldn't deny that he felt a stab of some gray, despondent feeling when he looked at the uniform hanging on the back of his door. And Kurt certainly wasn't going to make this any easier than it could be.

As if on cue his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He shunted the covers down his legs and reached over for it.

 **From Kurt;**

 **Coffee tomorrow xx**

 **From Blaine; re Kurt**

 **Is that a question or a command? Xx**

 **From Kurt; re Blaine**

 **Guess :P**

 **I hate you for not being at school btw**

 **From Blaine; re Kurt**

 **I'm AT Dalton I'm just not in lessons? I still hav 2B up at the ass crack of dawn that's gotta count 4 sumthing**

 **From Kurt; re Blaine**

 **Nope. I probs hav quadruple calculus followed by gym & then line dancing u don't hav t deal with that**

 **From Blaine; re Kurt**

 **As if u won't b facebooking throughout quadruple calculus w ur phone in ur pencil case like always :P**

 **I get my phone collected in a lil box so it doesn't distract me from the importance of warblering**

 **From Kurt; re Blaine**

 **Ok yh tht's pretty bad I'll let u off xx**

 **4 now**

Blaine laughed and took that as a natural end to the conversation. He left his phone on the bedside crossed out of his room and into the bathroom across the hall. He had his toothbrush in his mouth and the shower warming up behind him when there came a hammering at the door.

"Go 'way Joel!" he gurgle-yelled around his toothbrush.

"I have to pee!" came the reply

"Tough. Firsh come, firsh served!"

Blaine heard his brother mutter something, likely obscene and then footsteps were heard to be descending the stairs.

 _If he complains to mom or dad I swear to god…_

He spat toothpaste into the basin, stripped off his clothes and clambered under the steamy water. He'd just washed his hair when there was another hammering at the door. He decided just to ignore it this time. He let the water soak his skin, relaxing in the heat. Then he shut the tap off, dried at a reasonable pace and wrapped the biggest towel around his waist.

Joel was bouncing outside the door when it opened "Seriously?! I'm dying here."

Blaine rolled his eyes and stepped out the way towards his room. The door slammed behind his back. The grey pants and oxford shirt felt uncomfortably stiff and itchy on his softened skin, he shook the shirt a bit to air it out and wondered if he should iron the pants again. There was a good smell of oatmeal wafting from the kitchen as he headed down, Mom and Dad were in their usual places, with half finished bowls set in front of them.

Mom greeted him with a cheery 'good morning' and a far too big smile, Dad folded the paper down long enough to give him a cursory nod and grunt over a two page ad for Peugeot, Blaine made a similar noise in return and seated himself next to the coffee jug. Joel and Mom were the morning people in the household, Blaine and Devon much preferred to avoid communication if at all possible until at least 9AM.

"You want a lift in, this morning, honey?" this was Mom, obviously

"No thanks, the guys are dropping by."

Devon yawned and tried to say something at the same time, the result being a kind of breathy open mouthed snarl.

"Um…pardon?"

He set down his newspaper. "I said; make sure they're careful on the roads. It's rush hour, it'll be crazy."

 _Seriously?_

But he nodded dutifully "Yes, sir I will."

Joel bounded in. "Any more oatmeal?"

The morning progressed like this. Boring. Ordinary. Jeff knocked on the door at quarter past seven, the only non-regulation thing about him was the dark circles under his eyes, Wes's Ford Focus was rumbling at the end of the path.

"It's fucking seven in the morning Blaine." He said on the way out, once the door was shut behind them

"It's seven fifteen actually, Jeff."

"It is the hour of seven, hence I am fucked off."

Jeff's mood surprisingly enough did not improve the whole thirty five minute drive to Dalton. Nor when it took David three goes to scan his ID card at the gate or when the main doors turned out to be locked on arrival. He was still grumbling in fact when they filed into the rehearsal room and took their seats. It should have been annoying but Blaine found it reminded him of Kurt which could only be a good thing.

Phones collected, council assembled and chatter down to a respectable hum Blaine straightened up in his seat as Wes banged his gavel and addressed the group.

"Ok Warblers welcome back!"

…

1PM

"…I'm so jealous."

They had broken for lunch, the group were crowded around Blaine sat on a straight backed chair in the café. His phone was being passed around to various exclamations of awe as the warblers poured over the pictures on his phone. Blaine was unashamedly basking in the attention, so used to being on the other side of this exchange enviously hiding pictures of day trips to cedar point while someone with richer parents boasted of a month in the Andes. It was nice. _I'm allowed to enjoy this right?_

"Dude. Seriously, I cannot believe this woman is your aunt."

"She's like my…second cousin or something to be honest."

"Same difference…"

Blaine tried to ignore the fact that Nick was zooming right in on the woman's cleavage.

"Maybe we could book her as the guest speaker for this semester, what do you reckon?"

"Didn't realize you were so interested in psychology, Nick," Blaine teased

"Hey as long as she wears a tee like this one when she comes I'll be interested in whatever."

"You're disgusting." He laughed though.

And now David was coming round with that little box again and Wes was hurrying everyone out of the cafeteria. Blaine rose with the rest of the table and placed his phone carefully in the wooden box on his way out.

…

4PM

It had been a good day. They all filed out into the parking lot, joints aching after several weeks of inactivity, sweaty, but buzzing.

"You still after a ride home, Blaine?"

"Please."

They traipsed across the parking lot, the four-seater beeped as they reached it, as if in welcome. Wes slid in the driver's side and Blaine rode shotgun.

"Oh, I forgot to say. We're having a thing, tomorrow, just to say 'welcome back' really. It's at that noodle place on College Avenue."

"Uh, what time?"

"Get there around six?"

"I don't know."

"You don't like noodles?"

"Not about the noodles. I'm supposed to be on a date. I don't want it to be rushed because I have somewhere else to be y'know."

Wes fake pouted. "Oh yeah, I see how it is. We've been displaced."

Blaine patted his shoulder smiling, "Nooooo. I still love you guys. Kurt's just…." He paused suddenly, shocking himself, the unspoken end of the sentence making him realize;

"Oh. Wow I've made a mistake." He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud until Wes answered him, somehow guessing exactly what he meant. "Are your parents going to let you transfer now?"

Blaine winced "Uh…"

"That sounds like a no."

"Uh…"

"Come on. You might as well ask."

"Uh huh."

Wes clapped him on the knee and started the car. Blaine began rehearsing the future conversation in his head. Traffic was pleasantly sparse for this time of day.

"Ok how does this sound…" Blaine began "Mom, Dad, I know I've messed you around a bit with this transfer business and I want to thank you for your patience." Wes nodded judiciously

"Good self-depreciation, gratitude, that always goes down well…"

"And now I have to tell you I've changed my mind. I think I needed to actually go back to school before I could really make a decision, but I know now that Dalton is not where I want to be."

"That's good…"

"Good."

"Wait that's not it?"

"Um?"

"No! You need to make some promises tell them all about what a dedicated student you'll be, how this is definitely your final decision and you'll stick with it for sure."

Blaine grimaced "This is gonna be agonyyyyyyy." He moaned "Maybe if I went to them on my knees that would help a bit?"

Wes laughed "Yeah groveling, always a win."

Blaine clasped his hands in front of his face and contorted his face into a cartoon of desperation.

"Oh pleeeeeeease let me transfer, Mom and Dad, pleeeeeeeeease! I'll be ever so goooooood!"

Wes laughed harder. "It won't be so bad. Worst they can say is no, right?"

 _Sure, or alternately 'Young man why are you so irresponsible, do you know how much this puts us out? I can't believe how ungrateful and selfish you are, go to your room.' This is gonna be agony._

Only Mom was home when he got in. He yelled a goodbye to Wes and responded to the teasing thumbs up with a middle finger. Once out of his uniform he tromped into the kitchen to ask if he could help with anything.

He liked these moments with his mother, finding everything so much easier when it was just the two of them. Blaine had his phone beside him on the countertop as he peeled potatoes and shelled peas, the radio was on in the background and they talked together over their shoulders while they prepared the meal.

"I spoke to Willie earlier today." She said

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm. He wanted to know when a good time was to come visit, did you invite him?"

"I just like mentioned it. He wants to come."

"You want him to come?"

"Yeah I'd love him to meet everyone."

"You think they'd get along?"

"They should do, he doesn't have a lot in common with Kurt, but neither do I really. I don't know, Willie's cool, easy to talk to. I think it could be fun."

Pamela Rose beamed "If I'd known you'd get along so well, I'd have arranged to meet up many years ago."

"Why didn't you?"

Pamela put down the spice jar. "I don't know really." She sat back against the countertop "I guess it got harder to stay in contact after we moved from New Jersey. Phone calls got more awkward…you know when you're having a conversation with someone and it's not really a conversation it's just one person saying their bit and then the other?"

Blaine nodded, smirking inwardly

"Well it became like that. It wasn't as though we were even talking anymore. And then that awful…thing that happened, with Willie, just terrible…well I didn't know how to act. I called her once, and it just…"

She waved a hand and Blaine understood. "I didn't know where I stood I suppose. I wanted to help, obviously, but we weren't friends then. Which was sad. And I think that created a rift, definitely. We didn't call as much after that but every time I saw a letter from her I felt happy and I like to think she was the same."

"And now you get a proper second chance." Mom smiled at that,

"Yeah. Exactly. And you get a new friend too."

"Uh-huh." She turned away then, resumed her work.

"Um…" Blaine got to his feet "Mom actually I wanted to ask you about something."

"Mm-hm."

"Uh…It – well it's…"

"Is something wrong Blaine?"

"N-no. Not wrong exactly…"

"Blaine?"

"Look, I appreciate the time…no I mean your patience has been…I'm deciding uh – realizing…"

 _Oh Jesus, now she looks worried. Why can't I remember what I was gonna say?_

"I appreciate but I'm regretting…no that's – wait…"

"Blaine, if there's something bothering you…?"

"No, I'm just trying to tell you I know how long – how much? Thanks for…um…"

 _What the fuck is wrong with you, spit it out!_ "Mom, I want to transfer." _Oh brilliant. Well done, idiot._

Pamela blinked "You…want to…transfer?"

"Sorry…I didn't say it well I'm sorry, yeah I do."

"Now? You've had all summer to decide."

Here we go

"I know, I just…I think I've made a mistake."

Mom just raised an eyebrow. Blaine swallowed. "I know it's annoying…" he tried "I'm sorry, I just think I had to actually experience going back to one school to realize I wanted the other."

She didn't look impressed, the other eyebrow raised now. Blaine's heart was pounding, he decided to try again "Look, mom -," but Pamela raised a hand to cut him off.

"We'll talk later, Blaine." She said firmly "When your father gets home." _Oh, joy._

..

6:30 PM

It was halfway through steak and mashed potato when Mom brought it up. Blaine knew it would be rough but this waiting game wasn't helping, Dad and Joel both had gotten home in bad moods and at the same time as well, they bickered coming in the door, stomped up the stairs, shouted through closed doors and spent the rest of the evening ignoring each other. The tension was palpable. But no one was addressing it. As usual.

"So, Devon." Pamela began folding her hands under her chin "Your son has something to tell you."

Devon sighed, laying his fork down and looking sternly at Blaine. Joel kept his head down.

"I haven't done anything."

Shit, too defensive. Dad raised an eyebrow. Blaine adjusted himself

"I just…have something to…ask you, Dad."

"OK…"

"Err…" he cleared his throat "I want…I mean I'd like…I'd like to transfer."

Devon blinked.

"You'd like to transfer?"

"Yes."

"To…McKinley?"

"Yeah."

"I see." Devon and Pamela shared a look. Blaine gripped a knee in each hand to keep from shouting _what the fuck do you mean 'I see'?!_

"But you made the choice to stay at Dalton."

"I-it was a wrong choice. I'd…I've changed my mind."

"And what's to say you won't change your mind again?"

"I'm sure this time."

"You were sure before."

 _Oh, why is everything such a big deal?_

"I know but…this – I know it's a…hassle. But this is what I want. For sure, I mean…" he trailed off. Mom and Dad were communicating silently, he wasn't even sure he was being listened to.

Joel was watching this whole exchange through narrowed eyes. Chewing steadily.

"I think." Devon said eventually, startling Blaine "It's very late to be doing this."

"I know Dad, but I want - ,"

"Let me finish. It is late to be doing this, but, we told you the beginning of the summer when you first mentioned that it was your decision." He looked to his wife for confirmation. Now Joel was frowning.

Blaine swallowed, excited now "You mean…?"

Dad nodded. "School has started now, _anak_. If this is your decision, we will support you, as we said, that hasn't changed. But this is your last chance, no dropping out, you stick with this, you hear me?"

"Yes! Yes Sir, I will. I promise I will. Thank you so much!"

Rose spoke up "We're serious, though, Blaine. No more alterations, if a couple of months down the line you want to change again…that's not going to be okay. You have to commit."

"I will. I will, this is what I want and I-I'll stick to it, honestly."

"Well alright then." She smiled. Blaine was practically bouncing. He grinned at both his parents "Thank you so much! I seriously didn't think you'd let me!"

"We thought you'd made your decision already, son. It is a slight inconvenience but it wasn't just a farce, this, when we said it was up to you we meant it." Devon returned to his food, patting his wife's hand as he did.

Blaine hummed happily and poured himself another drink.

"Now…hold on a second." Everyone looked at Joel.

"You're seriously gonna let him do this?" he looked disbelieving "I thought we were happy with Dalton?"

Devon blinked, momentarily lost "We…were. Now Blaine has changed his mind."

"And don't the rest of us even get a vote?"

"I thought I was making this decision for myself, Joel."

"But…" Joel spluttered "This is insanity! Am I the only one hearing this shit?"

"Joel Anderson! Language!"

"Sorry!" he said in a tone that clearly indicated he was not "I just think this is crazy!" He rounded on Blaine "Seriously. Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten why we moved you to Dalton in the first place?"

"What are you -?"

"We had to look at you lying in that hospital bed for days Blaine! You remember how I used to sleep in a chair waiting for you to wake up? I was there in the car when you were punched up and bleeding! I held your goddamn hand while they gave you stitches!"

Dad looked like he wanted to intervene but Blaine cut in.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Joel?!"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?! You're not giving any thought to your family here are you? It's all about you!"

"Yes exactly, because this is my life!"

"Selfish and childish that's what you are."

"Screw you!"

"You can't transfer! You can't."

Blaine jumped to his feet, furiously angry. Whatever part of his brain that was conditioned though years of scolding reminded him to ask to be excused first. At the halting nod he took off up the stairs and threw himself face first onto his bed, his standard positioning for when he was pissed off.

 _How fucking dare he? This is my decision, Dad said so. Fuck him._

He punched the bed.

..

7:30

Blaine had been in his room around half an hour, which meant his brother was getting his ass handed to him downstairs. There came three taps at the door then, and a pause.

"Come in Joel."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Dad just does the one cursory knock for appearances and then bursts in anyway, Mom doesn't even knock she just yells. Had to be you."

"Cool, right." Joel looked at the floor, coughed awkwardly. The door closed with a quiet snap as he leaned back against it.

"They sent me up to apologize" he finally mumbled, jabbing a thumb behind him. "I am sorry I went nuts just now but I…" He sighed "Buddy, I just think this is a terrible idea."

He said it in such a way that it was hard to get annoyed. "I get why you think that." Blaine allowed "But I can't just…hide away forever…"

Joel shrugged "It just makes sense to me. You know what it's like, why would you go back willingly?"

"Because…it's been years. I don't know, things must have changed."

"You don't watch the news, then presumably?"

"That's pretty rude, Joel."

The older brother made a noise of frustration. He rubbed the back of his neck and examined the ceiling, re-thinking his approach.

"Look." He said next, "I go to college a thousand miles away from here. Literally, a thousand."

"Sooo…?"

"So! I can't protect you when I'm so far away. I like Dalton because…it meant that I didn't need to you know?" Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Not like you really did a whole bunch to protect me while you were here, dude."

"Fair point." Joel shifted, he was clearly very uncomfortable. "I really don't think you should transfer."

Blaine sighed "I get it, I do, but it's not up to you."

"You're just doing this for Kurt."

"Save it. I got all this from Dad a month ago."

"Maybe he's right."

"He changed his mind, he said it was my decision. And anyway what would it matter if I was! I want to be closer to the person I love what's wrong with that?"

"What happens if you break up? Hell! What happens when he goes off to college?!"

"You don't think I've considered that? I can make friends, Joel! People do that!"

"Ok!" he put his hands up "Ok. I'm sorry, I actually don't want to fight."

 _Why are you here then?_

"I never took you seriously when you mentioned, y'know, because you've…said similar things before…"

"Ok…"

"And I kind of secretly assumed that they were just humoring you." Again he jerked his head downstairs. "We all just worry about you, Blaine. I feel you haven't even acknowledged that."

Blaine fell back on the mattress, exasperated "Honestly Joel why should I? It's not a favor – that you all worry about me – I hate that you even have to. I'm just tired of all of us being scared."

"That's not fair. You can't expect us to just merrily wave you on your way, obviously we're going to worry. We went through hell the last time you were in public school."

"No I went through hell the last time I was in public school."

"That's not fair! It happened to all of us!"

"No it did not!"

"Yes, it did! Stop being so self-absorbed!"

"Just go away, Joel." He was still talking to the ceiling "I don't have to take this. Go away. I'll tell mom and dad you gave a real nice apology."

There was no movement for a split second, then a muttered insult and the door thumped shut. Blaine exhaled slowly eyes filling with stupid tears.

 _Fuck him._ He thought defiantly. It was easier than admitting there was any truth to what had been said. He heaved himself up off his back and reached for his phone on the dresser. Then thought better of it. No, I won't tell him. I can't wait to see his face. He grinned at the thought.

..

 **Tbc.**

…

 **A/N - I know it's terrible! I know it's all over the place but that's because I've been writing over a few weeks. And I know I'm probably shouting into the void but I just wanted to get something uploaded otherwise I was never going to get anywhere.**

 **If anyone's still paying attention gimme a sign ;-)**

 **Pt. 2 upcoming**


	3. The Purple Piano Project pt 2

**TUESDAY 30** **TH** **AUGUST 2011 8AM**

The first day back was always the most painful. He might be on his third cup of coffee – no one tell his Dad - but Kurt was still having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"You know, WebMD lists a number of unpleasant side effects for caffeine taken in high doses."

 _Just ignore her._

"Stomach irritation, increased heart rate, anxiety, tinnitus…think about how that might effect you as a performer, Kurt…"

 _Ignore her harder, she's still talking._

"I shouldn't be surprised if your insomnia gets a lot worse as well. You know you might only _feel_ the effects of the drug for four to six hours but that's only a _half life_ Kurt, it can stay in your system for a lot longer."

He mumbled something non-committal into his arms in the hopes that might stay her course. Nothing doing.

"-and that's not to mention how your body will build up a tolerance over time. It's like a low level amphetamine, and the more you get used to it the more you need to get that boost. And you know that a high enough dose of caffeine can cause all sorts of negative effects – diarrhoea, muscle tremors – in fact if you build up enough in your system it can _literally kill you!_ The FDA are investigating reports of deaths linked to caffeine overdoses right now and I know they're generally the result of energy shots and caffeine _powders_ but is it really that far fetched to think you might similarly ingest a lethal amount of caffeine from too much strong coffee – not at once but over time as the concentration in your blood just…"

"Rachel!" a few people in the desks ahead turned around, he lowered his voice "Rachel. Please. I don't care; like at all. Please stop."

She looked genuinely affronted.

"I'm just looking out for your health Kurt."

"Well, don't. At least…not at this time in the morning."

He took a great swig from his thermos flask and slumped a little lower in his seat. _Just six more hours, you can do this, six more hours give or take and then you'll be curled up in bed watching old Project Runways on putlocker. You can do this._

He was being perhaps a little overdramatic, but all of his pep and enthusiasm had gone into his morning interview with Jacob Ben Israel and he had precisely zero left over for dealing graciously with Rachel Berry's bullshit. Or his overzealous homeroom tutor and her "fun" morning brain teaser. Or Scott Cooper making threatening gestures from behind his trapper keeper. Or anything else at all really.

It was just all, in general, far too early. And it remained too early throughout English – he'd thought Finnegan's Wake epidemically overrated in sixth grade when he first read it and that opinion had yet to change, Home Ec – seriously, he knew a Betty Crocker lemon sponge when he saw one and Algebra – he had given up and begun browsing Asos in his pencil case by that point.

Lunch was pointless. A waft of rancid hot dog water had him gagging into his shirt sleeve so he ate nothing and simply had another coffee. But it was watery and terrible and just another thing for Rachel to look disapprovingly at him about. _Whatever._

He got his phone out. _Coffee tomorrow._ The thought of Blaine never failed to put a smile on his face.

-/-

AN; omg I can't believe how long it's been. On the off chance that anyone is actually still reading Glee anymore, here it is. All 527 words. I just wanted to get this up in order to have something posted. Let me know what you think. Hopefully the next chapter will be here a little faster xD


	4. The Purple Piano Project pt 3

**WEDNESDAY 31ST AUGUST 4:30PM**

"You're quiet." Blaine sipped his coffee and raised an eyebrow at Kurt.

It had been about six days since their last date. Besides a hello kiss and a brief 'not so bad' in answer to how the first day of school had been Kurt had been completely silent, pointedly not even looking at his boyfriend across the table.

"No," he replied, "I'm being passive aggressive."

The Lima Bean was busy that afternoon. Which was nice in a way, every table was full, and the queue went right to the door, so no one was looking at them. To be honest, no one would really have been looking at them regardless That old thing about being alone in a big enough crowd seemed to be proving true.

It was sure to be a pleasant date, once Kurt had worked through his agenda. He tried to school his features into something serious and vaguely intimidating. But Blaine had that look on his face, of fond, wry amusement. That look that he got whenever Kurt launched a twenty-minute homily about the evils of capri pants, or used a particularly cold and convoluted metaphor to tear someone to pieces, or generally just spoke at all in the fashion they had both designated "Latter-day Gay"

Yeah, that look; the one that made him swoon.

So, it…

 _…what was I thinking about again?_

 _Never mind, down to business._

"You promised…that by the first day of school, you'd make a decision. And yet…" _Pause for effect_ "…there you sit. Cute as ever, but still in your Warblers blazer."

Incredulous laughter preceded the answering comment; "I can't just bail on the Warblers, okay? Those guys are my friends."

"Okay, all right, fine. One final sales pitch, and then we can talk about making over Nancy Grace."

"Okay."

Kurt still maintained that he didn't want to _pressure_ his boyfriend, but if Kurt Hummel was one thing, he was a dedicated salesman.

So, this time he leaned forward, choosing his words very carefully;

"If you stay at Dalton, you and I are…competitors."

Courteous nod;

"That's true."

"And I'm just not sure that our budding love can survive that."

Blaine was laughing again.

"Let me get this straight. I have to transfer because you're just afraid that I'm going to beat you at Sectionals?"

"Noooo, I'm afraid that I'm going to beat you."

"Uh-huh, yeah."

"And I know what that does to you…when I win."

 _His laugh, oh my god. I'm so in love._

"Look…" laughter still played on his lips, but the sincerity was clear in Kurt's voice "I mean, honestly, I-I just I just want to see you more. I want my senior year to be magic, and the only way that's gonna happen is if I get to spend every minute of every day with you."

It was genuine enough. Kurt had never really been as happy as he was now. He had a relationship. A real honest-to-Gaga romantic relationship with a bona-fide, non-closeted gay teen male.

They went on coffee dates. They had arguments, they made up. They laughed together. They had long conversations about meaningful things. They kissed, and snuggled and did…certain other things which Kurt still couldn't closely examine his feelings toward without wanting to cringe.

They were boyfriends. Life was good. So good Kurt felt like travelling back in time to It Gets Better his freshman year self. That puffy, lonely, at-his-worst edition of Kurt Hummel could have used a glimpse into this reasonably bright near future.


	5. TPP ctd

**WEDNESDAY 31ST AUGUST 6:30PM**

Blaine was not a good liar. So, he was justifiably proud of making it through an entire coffee date with his boyfriend without slipping up once.

 _I mean that was some consummate acting, right there._

The first thing he did upon getting home was to empty his closet and begin brainstorming outfits for tomorrow. It had to be sharp, _you never get a second chance at a first impression_. Except he was finding after almost three years wearing a uniform eight-hours a day had left him at a bit of loss with how to present himself. His staples now were v neck sweaters and patterned t shirts over sweatpants. He owned maybe two pairs of jeans? And neither of them fitted properly.

 _When did I get so lame? I used have style, didn't I?_ He thought hard.

It was honestly, probably not until about fifth grade that his mother stopped dressing him. Not physically dressing him, of course, but picking out his clothes in the morning. Pam Anderson had always considered herself a fairly good judge of character and there was no difference when it came to her sons. If you asked her husband, Pamela's penchant for kitting her youngest out in mini blazers, dress shirts and cino pants caused him to psychosomatically develop a personality to match, but really, who could say?

And Blaine _liked_ the way those outfits made him feel. It was the same thing that compelled him to slather unholy amounts of gel on his hair and – whisper it – iron his underwear. These things made him feel a sense of palpable structure. It was comforting. Like if he'd just present this ultra-organized, coordinated, picture perfect image of himself to the world – if he could make people think of him as this immaculate

He guessed he'd just gone down the sweaters and sweatpants route because it was easier. He never felt much like dressing rolling out of bed on a Saturday morning.

Home was his down time, weekends and holidays away from work. As much as his parents did not share the sentiment. _But like, why bother projecting a certain image of yourself when all you're doing is eating a lot of cereal and crying over physics homework._

Blaine could recall overhearing a (one of many, over him) argument between his parents at the age of no older than eight or nine.

"How is he supposed to figure out who he is if you keep putting all this on him? He's not a doll."

Turns out what Blaine was, was kind of a nerd.

The thought drew a smile, while straightening his bow tie – the pin striped one – truthfully, he might never have found his way to geek chic without his mother's early influences but he was glad of it. While he would never fully understand Kurt's obsession with clothing, he'd wholeheartedly agree with the outlook that the way a person dressed was an expression of their truest character.

 _Personal style is an extreme curiosity about yourself._ He'd have to google where that came from…

After the three-hour mark strutting up the carpet between door and mirror he was beginning to feel his head spin. This would be so much easier if he could pick up the phone and ask Kurt for his advice.

"Why are you walking like John Travolta?" Blaine nearly broke his ankle.

"How long have you been stood there, Joel?"

"Don't you know it's rude to answer a question with another question? Mom would be appalled. What are you doing?"

"Just like…trying out some looks."

 _Don't laugh._

"Cool, cool. You look very…dapper."

"Um…okay. Thanks?"

Joel sat down awkwardly on the bed. Blaine put his hands in his pockets, suddenly unsure of how to stand.

"So…"

"I know technically, I was supposed to apologize yesterday but I wasn't really feeling that…I wanna say I'm sorry now. Genuinely. Not 'cause Dad has my head in a vice."

"And not because you're leaving tomorrow and just want to make nice?"

"…maybe a bit."

Blaine blew air through his lips and lent back further into the closet door. "Okay. You're sorry, I'm still transferring. And I'm not saying 'sorry' back."

"I know. And…I know, you don't have to. It's…it's cool."

They both stared at the floor then for an uncomfortable length of time. Stealing a glance at his brother Blaine could see Joel's jaw working like he was trying to make words smaller with his teeth.

"I just worry about you y'know." It came out in one breath. Blaine didn't have a response and Joel bit his lip like he regretted saying it. Blaine wanted to yell something about it not being a real apology if he had an excuse, he also wanted to say simply 'Don't.' and then maybe break something for dramatic effect. He did neither though, and just continued to look at the floor.

This was a regular occurrence in the Anderson household. Displays of honest emotion were rarely met with a gratifying reception. So, they had become over the years, largely subject to the psychological principle of extinction. The general tack nowadays was to just leave things indefinitely unaddressed and subconsciously construct parallel conflicts through which one could work out their subsequent emotions without actually confronting any of the root causes.

Both boys wanted very badly to change. It would have been heavenly to just get it all out in the open, stay up for hours talking things through, all the anger and resentment, all the pain and the silent memories they shared. But it wasn't going to happen. Not tonight, maybe not ever.

Maybe it was too late for them.

After Joel had gone, Blaine lay in his bed thinking about Willie's family. He'd been witness to the strangest interactions between them that summer, wide expanses of time spent up together talking through conflict. What they called 'processing' and 'active communication.'

One argument could become a long, convoluted drama that spanned hours, right through the night sometimes if that's what it took. The didn't just talk about what had happened, it was what they were all feeling when it happened, what might have caused it to happen, how this was like one other thing that happened three years ago and actually maybe something that happened as a result of that caused this to happen, and on and on and on.

It seemed exhausting to Blaine. All that talk. Uncomfortable, painful, confronting talk. Spotlights shone on faces. Every wart glowing in HD. People's souls laid bare on the kitchen table, nothing was ever allowed to lay unexamined. In Blaine's world of avoiding conflict like plague, he could think of nothing worse.

But really, he'd watch them – go to bed finally at four AM, sleep until the evening. Always they'd come together later on, and everything was calmer and cleaner somehow. The badness was just gone. There was balance, ease and playfulness again. The 'processing' fixed things. It did.

It was as though by acknowledging all the anger and unpleasantness it dissipated and there was room for love and all the good things again. Blaine wished he could remember what his Aunt Trixie had told him the first time he saw them do this, something about emotions needing to be felt fully in order to deal with them constructively. _Like…feeling angry is not the bad thing but reacting to the emotion in a negative way is…and suppressing your feelings can make you react badly? Because you don't really come to terms with them properly? I don't know…_

If he ever figured it out, he'd get it tattooed on his body. Seriously. Don't tell his parents.

..

 **THURSDAY 1** **st** **SEPTEMBER 1:30PM**

It was really quite difficult to refrain from strutting and skipping simultaneously as Blaine went down the corridors of McKinley High in search of Kurt. He had no idea where his locker was of course, he'd been shown one time in an impromptu private tour but that was last year at the Night of Neglect and it wasn't really the kind of thing he felt the need to remember.

 _Ah!_

"Hey, you."

Right by the furthermost doors, of course.

"Well, aren't you a sight for these sore eyes."

Blaine leaned against the wall, cocked an eyebrow trying to look vaguely suggestive.

"Bad day?"

Kurt sighed. "Bad week, more like…wait what are you doing here, shouldn't you be at Warbler practice? You know, putting the fine tuning touches on a new Katy Perry Showstopper. "

"Okay. For someone who loves clothes so much I can't believe you haven't noticed I'm not in my warbler outfit

Kurt frowned… _wait…._

Blaine's grin was so wide his cheeks hurt. Kurt tumbled into his arms.

"Oh wait-wait, you didn't do this for me, did you? Because if you did this for me, I mean, it would be very romantic for one, but it could lead to resentment, which could lead to anger, which could lead to a horrible, horrible, nasty breakup like, you know, on The Bachelorette, when we watched that - "

He paused for breath and Blaine jumped in.

"I did this for myself." Silence, that's a good sign "Because I can't stand to be apart from the person I love."

 _His smile, fuck, I'm so in love._

"Well I guess we'll have to find a way to ease you into the New Directions now, huh?"

"I already have that figured out."

..

 ** _A/N Hope it was worth the wait, those of you still out there..._**


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